


What Goes Around

by MauveCat



Category: Endless Summer (Visual Novel)
Genre: Gen, Prison, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 19:15:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30060258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MauveCat/pseuds/MauveCat
Summary: What happened when Everett Rourke was dragged out of his own universe and into another? (Takes place several years after the conclusion of "Falls the Shadow," in the timeline that came into existence when Taylor accepted Rourke's offer.)
Kudos: 3





	What Goes Around

Everett Aleister Rourke the First stared at his feet as he paced the floor of his cell. _Eight steps. Turn. Eight steps back. Turn. Eight steps. Turn...._

If he maintained his stride length at two and a half feet, he would cover a mile with every two thousand, one hundred and twelve steps. To maintain a minimal level of fitness, Rourke estimated that he had to walk at least five miles a day. He was allowed out of his cell for one hour a day – never any longer than that, and sometimes less. A stony-faced guard would do nothing but stare at a clock during his exercise periods while three others stood watch. They were rotated regularly and he never had the same guards for more than four days in a row. Even if the faces changed, their shared hatred was worn like a uniform. They stood there glaring at him and waiting for the slightest excuse to use their weapons.

Rourke refused to acknowledge any of his guards. Every day he walked, and he counted his steps, and he thought, and he plotted.

He was allowed monthly visits with an advocate – a sniveling, terrified little creature who was clearly incapable of presenting even a minimal defense. At first, he’d tried to tell her the truth. He’d done his best to convince her that he wasn’t _really_ the deposed Emperor of the World, imprisoned and sentenced to solitary confinement for the rest of his days. No, he was _another_ Rourke, from _another_ reality. That... hadn’t worked. The idiot had stared at him, and scribbled notes, and claimed that there was no hope of an appeal; instead, she told him that her only purpose was to ensure that he wasn’t mistreated during his imprisonment.

 _Mistreated_.

Fuming at the memory, Rourke glared at the windowless gray cement walls surrounding him. He ignored the tiny camera with its green blinking light in the corner of the cell. It had been installed the day after he was brought here and he’d naturally insisted on its removal; when his demands were ignored, he’d done his best to destroy the camera himself... and as a result, he’d been placed in restraints. As soon as they’d been removed, he tried again. And again.

And again.

And now Rourke ignored the camera as best he could. He’d even learned to ignore the irregular visits from its inhabitant, so like the AI of his dead wife that he’d created in his own world. He should have known that his alter ego would have a similar idea... but this IRIS was even more malicious than the one of his own making. Perhaps because unlike _his_ Imogen, this one had been deliberately murdered by her husband. She’d witnessed the Emperor’s rise to power, and she’d witnessed his attempts to shape his children into worthy successors, and she’d died for her protests. Now that the AI had become self-aware (thanks to the meddling of _his_ IRIS), she seemed to take pleasure in reminding Rourke – _any_ Rourke, even if not the one she truly hated – of his failures. But he ignored her, because he had a plan.

He was going to get back to La Huerta.

That was his ultimate goal, even if he had not yet found a way to enact his plan. La Huerta was the key to everything and if he could just find his way back to the island, he would be unstoppable. He’d known that when he used General Lundgren (and he _had_ used him; he still refused to believe that oafish fool was capable of acting independently) to escape prison in his world and return to La Huerta. The Emperor of this world had used the island’s hidden secrets to gain power; surely he’d be able to do the same. If only he could –

Rourke froze as he heard footsteps approaching slowly down the long, long hallway. There was no clock in his cell, and no natural light, but he’d read a chapter of _Our Mutual Friend_ and taken five thousand and forty-seven steps since lunch. Too early for dinner, then. His advocate’s visit was still nine days away. Perhaps… was this _finally_ the day that one of his children came to his rescue? Aleister, surely. He would be the one to come to his senses first. The last he had heard, Estela and her fool of a mother had retreated to the remains of their home in South America after his – after the Emperor’s trial.

His jaw clenched at the memory of Olivia’s betrayal. She’d stood up in court and, bit by excruciating bit, laid out Emperor Rourke’s crimes. As a reward, she and her daughter – no longer _his_ daughter, oh no, Estela was no child of either Everett Rourke – had been allowed to leave, accompanied by enough loyal guards to keep them safe from a populace gradually realizing that they no longer needed to fear the Dragon Lady and the Second Empress. Aleister, however –

The footsteps halted outside his cell door and Rourke schooled his expression into a blank mask. Until he knew who was on the other side, he intended to reveal nothing of his mind’s workings. When the door slowly opened and he saw who was on the other side, he was glad of his mental discipline.

“You sure you want to do this, General?” The taller of the two guards said, his gun aimed at Rourke’s head.

“Yeah, I’m sure. The camera will be on us at all times, and the… Emperor isn’t stupid enough to try anything.” Taylor took a step forward, staring impassively at Rourke. “Isn’t that right?”

Rather than answering, Rourke sat down on the seat built into the foot of his bed. He folded his hands neatly… and he waited, trying not to flinch at the sound of the door slamming shut. Taylor leaned against it casually, arms crossed in front of her. She hadn’t changed much in the years since she dragged him out of that cellar in La Huerta ( _since she dragged him out of his universe_ ). Her blonde hair was a bit longer now. It did nothing to hide the old burn scars trailing down her neck onto her left shoulder, and her face had nothing of the softness and optimism of the Taylor he’d met in his world.

Rourke tried to wait her out but, when she just stood and stared at him, he let out a dramatic sigh. “ _General_. Congratulations on your promotion. I’m sure that it was richly deserved.” He clapped his hands slowly for her.

“Not really.” Taylor gave him a one-shouldered shrug. “It’s hard work setting up a new government, and my skill set isn’t much help. ‘General’ is mostly an honorary title. They trot me out for parades and anniversaries, but they leave me alone most of the time. The new rank was kind of a going-away present. You know, ‘Thanks for giving us the Emperor. Now get out of the way while we try to fix everything he ruined.’ And there’s an awful lot to fix, isn’t there?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Rourke snapped. “None of it was my doing, remember?”

Taylor tilted her head to one side. “Ohhhh,” she said sympathetically. “You’re still trying to convince everyone that you’re not _really_ the Emperor, huh?” A smile tugged at her lips, but not her eyes. “You know that no one is ever going to believe that you’re just some poor innocent bystander from… what was it? Oh, yeah. ‘An alternate reality’ is the phrase you kept shouting at the trial. Didn’t work then, won’t work now. After all, most of the soldiers who followed the Emperor through the rift were killed by the Vaanti. The few who made it back to our side didn’t do much better, thanks to IRIS. There’s no one alive who could corroborate your story... no one except me, and Raj, and Michelle, and Zahra. And none of us are inclined to lend you a hand.”

Rourke drew in breath for an angry retort. Just in time, he regained control and stared at his white-knuckled hands, clenched so tightly into fists that he could feel his nails biting into his flesh. The memory tormented him, as Taylor surely knew that it would. He couldn’t forget the moment when Taylor had exchanged a look with her closest companions, and then told the remainder of her astonished group of soldiers that she’d found the Emperor hiding on La Huerta, but he was trying to convince everyone that he’d gone insane in a pathetic attempt to save himself from execution. None of them doubted her, and he’d never been able to convince anyone that he was telling the truth. Not that first group of soldiers nor any of those who followed, not the jeering crowds who’d surrounded him when he was taken to prison, not the courts and not even his children – no one believed him. As far as the world was concerned, they’d captured the dreaded Emperor Rourke and they intended to make him pay.

And so they had.

When he felt that he could keep his voice steady, he asked, “Shall I assume that you’re here to take me to the gallows, then? Is that one of your little ceremonial duties?”

Taylor’s smile widened. “I told you before – you won’t escape that way. You owe your life to that little display you put on at the trial. Even after everything the Emperor did, no one can bring themselves to execute someone who’s so clearly insane. Somehow, in spite of everything they’ve been through, they haven’t lost their humanity. You’re a lucky guy. You’re here for the rest of your life.” She looked around at the featureless gray walls in approval. “And I hope it’s a long one.”

“You –” Rourke’s eyes flickered to the camera, and he swallowed hard. The green light wasn’t blinking anymore. It shone steadily, malevolently.

Following his gaze, Taylor grinned. “Feel like dropping in for a while, IRIS?” she called softly.

After a moment, a green translucent form materialized in front of Rourke. “I think I can spare a few minutes of my time. I’ve switched over to a bit of footage that I put together for just such an occasion, so no one in the observation office will notice anything untoward.” IRIS barely glanced at Rourke. “And since the guards outside are used to his outbursts by now, surely Everett knows that shouting for help won’t get any reaction.” She drifted over to the single shelf that was welded onto the wall. “Ah, Dickens. It was so good of your keepers to give you something to fill your time, Everett. After all, you’re allowed nothing to write with, no access to the news… perhaps revisiting the classics will do you some good.”

Rourke bit back his reply and he kept his eyes on Taylor. “Why are you here? Do you get some sick pleasure out of taunting me?”

She returned his glare. “You’re the expert on sick pleasure. But... I thought that you might want to know that I just got back from La Huerta.” Rourke couldn’t keep his breath from catching, and Taylor gave him a grim smile. “You think you can figure a way to get out of here, don’t you? You want to get to La Huerta and scoop up a basketful of crystals – you think you’ll either use them to get back to your side, or you’ll figure out a way to seize power over here.” Her smile widened and her eyes gleamed. “Well... fine by me. I wouldn’t mind taking you back to the island myself. IRIS and I scanned the whole place and the only crystals left are buried so far beneath Atropo that you’d need to swim through a half-mile of lava to get to them.” She frowned a little and glanced at IRIS. “Or is it magma? I can never keep them straight.”

“If it’s underground, it’s magma, dear. But since both would be rather painful to swim through, the difference in semantics hardly matters in this case.”

“Good point.” Taylor turned back to Rourke. “Anyway, if you really want to check it out for yourself, go right ahead. I’ll throw you into the volcano myself to give you a head start.”

Ignoring her bait, Rourke smiled softly, triumphantly. “And... why were _you_ looking? What plans would you have for the crystals, hmm?”

He was surprised by the pain in Taylor’s eyes, and even more when she spoke with every sign of sincerity. “We weren’t there for the crystals. I had... someone I wanted to talk to, now that the last humans have left La Huerta. I had to make sure he knows that even if he and I didn’t get our happy endings, our counterparts on the other side did. I don’t know how much it helped, but... I think it gave him a little peace.” She composed her expression. “Besides that, we want to make sure that the Vaanti are left alone, for a few generations at least.” She nodded at IRIS. “We’re using the satellites to make sure that no one gets close enough to bother them.”

“How magnanimous of you. I’m sure the Hostiles appreciate your protection.”

Taylor raised her eyebrows. “Considering that they intend to slaughter any human they see, it’s not the Vaanti we’re trying to protect.” She made herself more comfortable against the wall. “So... have you heard from Estela lately?” She shrugged when Rourke only glared at her. “Right, right. Well, I swung by San Trobida on my way back. Estela... didn’t want to see me, but I spoke with Olivia. Seems that she’s pretty eager to find a way to take you out. She was a little upset that I wouldn’t help her bribe one of the guards, or slip a little something into your tea. I suppose I understand her feelings but honestly, I get a lot more pleasure out of the thought of you worrying about assassination than I would out of you being dead.”

Trying to regain control of the conversation, Rourke looked at IRIS. “And what about you, dear Imogen? I can’t imagine you and Olivia having a pleasant conversation.”

“Oh, we didn’t, _dear_ Everett. But I believe that she and I are past the point of hating each other – we both know now that you were the one who set us against each other in the first place.” IRIS drifted a little closer so she was hovering only a few inches away. “I died trying to protect my son. Olivia chose to live, in an attempt to protect her daughter. After she saw what you did to me, she was willing to do anything to save her life, and her daughter’s as well. We’ll never be friends but we’re no longer enemies.” She looked down at him with loathing. “Aleister is well, you know. Or if not exactly well, at least he’s alive and, like Estela, surrounded by loyal guards. He’s seen the futility of trying to carry on your mission – more precisely, the mission of the man who was his father. He’s living on a rather nice estate near Keswick, not far from where my father was born. He doesn’t bother his neighbors, and they’ve stopped trying to kill him. I... haven’t actually spoken with him. I don’t know how to explain how I became what I am today. And I suppose that I’m afraid of what it would do to him if he found out that there is another world where he’s a happily married man, a proud father....” She sighed. “I truly hope that my son has more to look forward to than life as a hermit.”

“He _could_ have more!” Thrusting himself to his feet, Rourke tried, and failed, to control his shudder when he passed through IRIS’s incorporeal form. He forced himself to remain calm – he couldn’t let his opponents see how his pulse had quickened at the thought of Reginald. After all, he had another heir, still a child, who he could properly mold to make up for the failures that his children had proved themselves to be. He walked over to Taylor and said urgently, “If he came to me, if he freed me, Aleister and I could find a way to put everything back the way it should be. You could –”

Taylor sighed. The bored contempt, mixed with pity, in her eyes frightened Rourke more than the rage he had expected and did not find. “You still don’t get it. _They’re not coming_. Neither of them cares what happens to you anymore. You can’t do anything for them. And you can’t do anything _to_ them. They have nothing to gain by sucking up to you… and they don’t have to fear you, either. All you ever had to offer them was power and terror, and you don’t have either now. You never will. You’re helpless.”

Rourke stepped back a little, trying to regain his self-discipline. “Does it make you feel better about what you’ve become, blaming me for everything?”

Shaking her head, Taylor shrugged. “ _Nothing_ makes me feel good. I’m responsible for the deaths of – God, I’ve lost count of everyone who’s dead because of me. I took the deal you offered because I thought it would save my friends, but most of them are dead because I believed I could find an easy way to beat you. I was arrogant and they paid the price for my failure. But you... you’re the one who set everything in motion. I was a fool for listening to you in the first place, but you were the cause of everything. Believe me, you and I have plenty of blame to share. The difference between us is that I accept the truth of what I did. I don’t think you’re capable of that.” She looked at IRIS as Rourke sank down onto his bunk. “Anything else you want to talk about?”

“I can’t think of anything, dear.” IRIS gave Rourke a tight little smile. “I might check out the prison library, though, and see if I can’t recommend any books for your reading list. Perhaps _The Gulag Archipelago_? No... I don’t think so. You already seem to consider yourself an unjustly imprisoned martyr, after all. I’m sure I’ll think of something suitable.” She vanished and a moment later, the camera resumed its slow green blink.

“Yeah, I’m done too.” Taylor pounded against the door before Rourke could think of a retort. As the armed guards stepped into the room to flank her, she looked over her shoulder and said casually, “You know, I checked the prison’s list of new hires, and it looks like there are a couple of people just in from San Trobida who are working in the kitchens. Maybe one of them has a message from Olivia for you.”

Rourke’s breath caught. “You’re lying. You’re trying to make me doubt everything – you want to drive me mad.”

“Maybe I am. Who knows? Anyway... _bon appetit._ ” With cold eyes and a cheerful wave, Taylor stepped out of the cell.

And as the cell door slammed, Everett Aleister Rourke the First sat and stared into the blank gray walls. He’d read a chapter of his book, and he’d walked over five thousand steps since his last meal. That meant he had a few hours until supper. He slowly rose and, his feet leaden and his movements jerky, he began walking. _Eight steps. Turn. Eight steps back. Turn. Eight steps._

_Turn._

_And turn._

_And turn._

**Author's Note:**

> I've been thinking about whether or not it would be difficult to pass one Rourke off as the other. In a world where the remaining people are desperate for someone to hold responsible for the lives they were force to endure... it probably wouldn't be hard at all.
> 
> I don't think it's impossible that the other Taylor and the other Estela might eventually find a way to each other, but it sure as hell wouldn't be easy....


End file.
